


Serious Ink Job

by Kuiper7



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Explicit Language, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-02-07 06:57:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1889268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuiper7/pseuds/Kuiper7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a little one-shot about the result of one of those missions... you know, alien customs, drugs - always blame it on the drugs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Serious Ink Job

Fucking Pegasus! That is what once again went through Major Evan Lorne’s head as he tried to type up the latest mission report. When he had first got here he would have included everything in the report: every last detail.

 

But this was Atlantis in the Pegasus Galaxy and Earth was so very far away. So was Stargate Command. Time here and especially time under the command of one seriously crazy Lieutenant Colonel had taught Lorne that there were many things on a mission that just was not relevant for reports. 

 

They did not have to know about the harmless customs of the farming community on PYJ291. They did not have to hear about three days lost in a crop field the size of Kansas or about what exactly got him there in the first place.

 

It was bad enough that his team knew. Hell even McKay and Zelenka knew and if Lorne wasn’t mistaken the entire medical staff and oh yes… the gate technicians; which meant that everyone in Atlantis must know.

 

It meant Sheppard knew.

 

“Lorne?”

 

Forget about showing his face in the mess hall. He could not even leave his quarters without running into a bunch of snickering marines or worse Cadman; who just gave him one of those looks.

 

“Lorne.”

 

Sure he did have to mention that he did partake in the farmers’ drink ceremony. It would apparently ensure a great harvest. But maybe he could gloss over the fact that he gulped when they said to only sip. The next item was how to spin the fact that within minutes the sky had turned all orange and purple and that the leaves on the trees were talking to him. Maybe he could say he had been slightly unnerved by the bitter taste. It sounds much better than drugged out more than a 60s rock star.

 

“Evan?”

 

And did command really need to know about his little visit to the local body artist while on said drug trip? Why the hell did a farming town need a tattoo artist anyway? The next part Lorne most definitely blamed on Parrish. The evil little botanist (also on the same toxin as Lorne) went so far as to draw out the pattern for the artist – who would never have been able to ink his body in English without that little blueprint. Lorne swore he would find a way to make Parrish pay even if it took a life-time. Especially since the evidence of Parrish’s betrayal would be stuck on Lorne’s right arse cheek for a life-time.

 

“Major.”

 

Lorne’s eye twitched as several forms of punishment came to mind. That little bastard claimed no memory but Evan knew the truth. Scientists may act all naive and socially inept but they were seriously manipulative creatures that too often got you to do things which should never ever happen. 

 

The report would have to mention the three days since several teams were dispatched to find them. Lorne cursed himself. While he could blame Parrish for the tattoo he had to admit it was his idea to go dancing in the crop fields. Then again he shouldn’t have to report that he had decided to do it naked... and that that is how the rescue team had found him.

 

“Major Evan Lorne!”

 

The major looked up to see Sheppard standing at the door with the most mischievous grin he had ever seen. If there was one person he had wanted to avoid until his no doubt soon to be forced redeployment to some radar station in Alaska… it was Colonel Sheppard. The man had the temerity to look amused at Lorne’s predicament and it was humour that Lorne most definitely did not share. How exactly did one write in a report that you had got a tattoo on your arse that says ‘Colonel’s give the best head’?

 

“Sir,” murmured Lorne and tried to avoid eye contact. He failed and spotted a twinkle in the Colonel’s eyes that spoke not of laughter but of something else. Something that most definitely would never see the page of any report.

 

Sheppard closed the door and stalked around the desk. “Thought you may want to test out that theory of yours.”

 

The colonel dropped to his knees and Evan looked to the ceiling with a huge grin, “Fucking Pegasus!”

-Finish-


End file.
